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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29518890">the spectator</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhereverMyWay/pseuds/WhereverMyWay'>WhereverMyWay</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Stray Kids (Band)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Descent into Madness, Haunting, Horror, M/M, Obsession, Possession, Souls</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 16:36:16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,532</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29518890</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhereverMyWay/pseuds/WhereverMyWay</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Chan just wants to be with Minho, but things keep going wrong.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Bang Chan/Lee Minho | Lee Know, Bang Chan/Seo Changbin</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>52</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. back to the dust, where i began</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p><b>disclaimer: this is a work of fiction!</b> any reference to persons in this work of fiction are purely coincidental. the characters referenced from Stray Kids are interpretations loosely based on their personalities in the group and do not represent the real people behind the personas. if this, or any of the content included in the warnings above make you uncomfortable, please stop reading now.</p><p>inspired by the bravery's "<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4rS4j5MQJyw">the spectator</a>".</p><p>also, i didn't bother betareading this so if there's mistakes, eh, let 'em live.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Sunlight danced in between cobwebs, delicately draped down from the ceiling to the top of the box of books Chan wanted to unpack. He stared at the empty spaces between the geometric, meticulously crafted shapes left by the ghosts of spiders past. </p><p>Staring.</p><p>Staring until the sunlight had shifted, from sunrise to high noon.</p><p>In between the gaps, he saw Minho dancing in his mind. His eyes drifted from strand to strand of dust-covered silk and he heard Minho’s laughter shift upward in pitch as his eyes rolled up.</p><p>“Chan,” Minho taunted him as the rays of sunlight cupped his face, the same way that Minho would lift his head. “Move the boxes.” The floorboards creaked as Minho’s voice drifted, slipping further and further away from him. </p><p>“Can you hear me?” </p><p>Minho kept taunting him, his voice warping and fading as Chan got lost—</p><p>“Chan, you’ve <em> got </em> to stop doing this to yourself.”</p><p>His voice wasn’t there anymore, replaced by Changbin. Minho’s voice would never be there again, never bounce off of the walls in the empty home.</p><p>Cold fingertips wrapped around Chan’s wrist, tugging him backwards.</p><p>“Come on. I’ll move the stuff in this—”</p><p>There was a slap that reverberated against the walls, echoing in Chan’s ears, turning everything else into static for a brief moment. Tears spilled from the edges of his eyelids, the sensation shocking him as he stared at Changbin cupping his own face.</p><p>“Don’t touch his things.”</p><p>“What?” Changbin stared at him, cocking his head ever so slightly.</p><p>“San qualba men twae.”</p><p>There was a heavy sigh. “You’re doing it again.”</p><p>More incoherence. It was happening more frequently: seemingly innocent sentences would sound fine in his head, but his tongue forgot how to translate the words from his brain into actual English.</p><p>Why was it so hard for anyone to understand that he just didn’t want anyone touching Minho’s belongings?</p><hr/><p>“I’m locking that door so you can’t go in there when I’m not around.”</p><p>Chan clawed at the door until his fingernails cracked and his skin started to bleed, the blood rolling down the grooves he had created in the door. He sank to the floor, pressing his ear to the empty space between the door and the floorboards. For a moment, he could hear Minho soothing him in between his sobs.</p><p>“I’m here, Chan.”</p><p>His voice was so soft and calm, like a parent comforting their child.</p><p>“I’ll never let you go, but you have to let me free.”</p><p>“Minho,” Chan tilted his head, whispering into the room.</p><p>Minho was the only one that understood him, and they were so impossibly in love with each other.</p><p>“I’ll let you out of there, I promise.”</p><p>Fingertips came out from under the door, and Chan brought his bloodied fingers to the space, reaching out to touch the nothingness that felt like somethingness.</p><p>“I love you, Chan.”</p><p>“I love you, too, Minho.”</p><hr/><p>In the few times that Chan could actually sleep, Minho was so warm, so welcoming in his dreams. The energy that followed Minho was vibrant: he smiled so widely, his eyes turning into crescent moons that complemented the sunlight of his smile. Minho was always laughing in his dreams, his fingers so warm as they cupped Chan’s face; his arms feeling like they were custom-moulded to fit around Chan’s waist.</p><p>“Don’t forget about me, Chan.”</p><p>Chan was imperfect.</p><p>“Don’t leave me, Minho.”</p><p>But Minho was perfect.</p><hr/><p>Chan could only sleep when Changbin wasn’t around, which was problematic, because Changbin would stop him from trying to get into Minho’s room. </p><p>“You’re driving yourself insane, Chan, please, just come with me—”</p><p>Another slap.</p><p><em> He needs to stop getting in the way of us. You’re </em> mine, <em> not his. </em></p><p>He didn’t mean for it to happen, his body just moved by itself. </p><p>He needed to protect Minho, after all. Changbin was a threat to Minho.</p><p>Changbin needed to stop trying to get Chan to leave. The further he got away from Minho’s room, the more and more uneasy he felt, anxiety and adrenalin coursing through his veins.</p><p>What if?</p><p>What if Minho came back?</p><p>What if Minho felt alone?</p><p>What if Minho disappeared forever?</p><p>What <em> if? </em></p><p>“He’s not coming back,” Changbin sighed, as if he could read Chan’s mind. “He never—”</p><p>Chan screamed, tugging at his hair while he shook his head. </p><p>
  <em> Not real. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Lying. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Liar.  </em>
</p><p>Minho was <em> right there, </em> Changbin just needed to close his eyes and open his mind. He would feel Minho the closer he got to the boxes of his books.</p><p>Chan blinked, and he was in front of the door again, throwing himself against the wood.</p><p>“Let him go,” Changbin’s fatigued voice followed, too tired to get in between Chan and the door. There was a heavy, languid sigh that followed. “Never should have moved into this house, I swear.”</p><p>“He’s getting in the way again,” Minho’s voice caused Chan to stop. He scrambled his way to the floor, pressing his ear to the gap between the door and the ground. “He’s keeping you away from me on purpose.”</p><p>“I’m so sorry, Minho, I—”</p><p>“Chan,” Changbin leaned up against the wall, staring down at Chan with pity.</p><p>“Chan,” Minho pleaded.</p><p>Changbin knelt down, reaching his hand out to Chan’s shoulder, the touch feeling disjointed and cold in comparison to Minho’s.</p><p>“Open the door,” Minho whispered into Chan’s ear. “I promise, it’s open. Open the door. Let me out of here and we can be together.”</p><p>“Really?” </p><p>“Trust me.”</p><p>Chan stumbled his way upright, putting one of his hands on the cold door handle, the other brushing up against the bloodstained scratches from the days prior.</p><p>“What are you doing?” </p><p>All he needed to do was open the door.</p><p>“Chan, stop.”</p><p>He turned the handle, surprised at the click.</p><p>“What the fuck? I locked the—”</p><p>He threw the door open and his eyes darted around the room.</p><p>The boxes.</p><p><em> Minho’s </em> boxes.</p><p>“Don’t do this, Chan.” Changbin reached out to grab Chan’s wrist as he pleaded, but he wasn’t fast enough. </p><p>Chan scrambled over to the boxes, tearing the cobwebs away.</p><p>“You’re only going to hurt yourself.” He wasn’t sure who was speaking, the voices too loud in his mind, blurring together as he panicked. “The truth is not what it seems.”</p><p>It didn’t matter.</p><p>“Set me free, Chan.”</p><p><em> Minho </em> mattered.</p><p>Chan clawed his scabbed fingertips at the box, ripping open the fragile cardboard to reveal framed and unframed photos, not books.</p><p>This wasn't what he expected.</p><p>“That’s me,” Minho’s voice danced in Chan’s ears. “All of those years ago, so long ago.”</p><p>They were greyscale, sepia around the edges, some were stained with liquid and faded from aging. Lost with time. </p><p>“Chan, let it go,” Changbin pleaded from the doorway, his voice cracking, clearly exhausted.</p><p>Chan took the photos in his hands, dozens of them scattering to the floor as one in particular stood out to him. </p><p><em> That </em> was Minho. He had never seen Minho, but he <em> knew </em> it was him.</p><p>“Don’t you love me, Chan?”</p><p>“I love you, Minho. You’re so perfect.”</p><p>Silence filled the air, until the floorboard creaked, Changbin slowly approaching. </p><p>“Chan,” his voice was soft, distant.</p><p>Minho mocked the way that Changbin spoke, imitating the way he fearfully said his name.</p><p>“Chan, who is Minho?”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. i was never here at all</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“We need to leave this house,” he begged and pleaded with Chan during one of the good days. “This place is fucking haunted, I can’t do it anymore.”</p><p>“Val bwae nal jikgwa lma?”</p><p>Changbin’s eyes went wide as he momentarily forgot how to breathe. “What did you just say?” His ears had to be deceiving him, but—</p><p>“Klae ben qwael mi.”</p><p>Chan looked so… unaffected as he spoke in a foreign tongue. It wasn’t English, Korean, or even the French that Chan promised he’d keep speaking after university. There was something so off-putting about it, like his database of language had been swapped as if it was a cassette tape.</p><p>“Dude, Changbin, you’re gawking again.”</p><p>And then he was back.</p><p>“Are you okay?” Changbin pressed, feeling his face going cold. He didn’t want to alarm Chan when he seemed so fragile.</p><p>“I’m fine, man,” Chan grabbed Changbin’s hands, pressing a quick kiss to the backs of his hands before he froze. </p><p>It was minute, but it was there.</p><p>
  <em> Chan is mine. </em>
</p><p>The whisper on the air was nearly impossible to catch.</p><p>“I’m fine, man,” Chan reiterated, smiling as he went back to his book. “Weren’t you saying something about fixing the stove?”</p><p>Changbin knew better than to bring up leaving. “Yeah,” he turned to his cup of lukewarm coffee, no longer able to stomach the thought of drinking another sip. </p><hr/><p>Things got worse after Chan opened the box of photos. </p><p>“I love you, Minho. You’re so perfect.”</p><p>Chan refused to leave the spare room, the room filled with all of Minho’s possessions. He would sprawl himself out on the floor, staring up at the ceiling with an empty gaze. Occasionally, Changbin would hear him speak in the foreign language. There would be laughter.</p><p>Chan would be laughing, and Changbin would be curled up in his bed across the hall, covering his face with Chan’s pillow as he cried himself to sleep. It was impossible: he wasn’t able to get Chan to come back, stuck in this peculiar trance that possessed him. Chan was turning increasingly violent and unpredictable as time went on, slapping or shoving Changbin every time he questioned anything about Minho or his belongings.</p><p>One day, when he was seemingly normal, when they were about to make their way downstairs for breakfast, Chan started wildly cackling to himself, which caused Changbin to turn around. “Are you alright?”</p><p>“Optal vren kal.”</p><p>“Chan,” Changbin sighed, shutting his eyes for a moment in exhaustion before hands were on his shoulders, lightly pushing at him. </p><p>Changbin collided against the staircase, sliding down the carpet that ran down the middle of it. He landed at the foot of the stairs, seemingly unscathed, but looked up in terror at the man that he loved. </p><p>Chan stared down at him, his irises gone for a moment and a playful grin on his face. A soft laugh came up from his chest before he came back. When Chan returned, he panicked for the briefest of moments before it was like his memory was wiped halfway down the staircase.</p><p>He was slipping away, becoming less and less Chan-like the further time went on.</p><hr/><p>One night, Changbin woke up to the sound of laughter from the room across the hallway, and he decided that enough was enough. Still sore from being shoved down the staircase, and tired of fearing the man he loved, he got out of bed. He had no idea how he could combat a ghost, but he decided he would try to get Chan away from the house, no matter what the cost was.</p><p>He wanted Chan back, but a rush of guilt overtook him as he briefly considered just leaving him here.</p><p>Still, he stood at the doorway of the room staring at the shell that resembled Chan.</p><p>“Chan,” he sighed, “please get up. Come back to me.”</p><p>The older man rolled his head, gaze empty as he stared. “Xep kal mwe.”</p><p>Changbin took in a deep breath, then walked into the room, desperately reaching out towards Chan.</p><p>Crossing the threshold was a mistake.</p><p>“Get <em> out </em> of my house!” Minho threw books at Changbin, trying to get him to leave, but the man stood firm, tears streaming down his face as he shook his head.</p><p>“Give me Chan, and I’ll leave.”</p><p>“You can’t have him,” Minho taunted, getting into Changbin’s face. “I’ll make sure you never have him again.”</p><p>Chan’s gaze was empty, his pupils and irises gone again as Minho wrapped around him, dangling from his neck, whispering things into his ear. </p><p>Changbin stepped back once, until he was in the middle of the doorway. He stared at Chan, his body shaking and trembling from fear and how cold it was in the house. The lights flickered, a few bulbs popping and cracking, the frail, fragile glass collapsing to the ground.</p><p>“Leave.”</p><p>“Intruder.”</p><p>“Get out of this house.”</p><p>The hissing of the voices came back, so loud in Changbin’s ears. He wanted to run up to Chan, to grab him and drag him out of the house, but—</p><p>It felt like hands grabbed at him, yanking him back to the wall across the door.</p><p>He was frozen in place.</p><p>“Chan!” Changbin shouted at the top of his lungs as cold hands wrapped around him, pulling at his throat, tangling fingers in his hair.</p><p>Minho grinned from ear to ear as he stared at Changbin. He slowly made his way to the frozen man, bringing his cold lips to Changbin's ear. “You had your chance to leave. But Chan is mine forever, now. You’ve made your bed, now lay in it.”</p><p>Changbin trembled, trying to force himself free of the grasp that locked him in place. “Please, don’t do this. Please, I love Chan, let him go and you can do whatever you want with me, just let—”</p><p>Minho’s eyes glimmered with a red sheen for the briefest of moments as he forced Chan to look at Changbin again.</p><p>“Changbin,” his voice was so familiar, yet foreign and far away.</p><p>Distant.</p><p>“I love Minho. Minho is perfect.”</p><p>It was the last thing he said before Minho reached his hands through Chan’s chest.</p><p>Chan’s irises came back, his pupils flickering around for a brief moment as he shouted in agony, blood sputtering up from his lungs, blood spilling from his eyes.</p><p>“Changbin, please!” He cried out, then fell forward, blood pooling out on the floor, rapidly spilling into the cracks of the wooden floor, into and around the strands of his hair. </p><p>The door slammed shut, and Changbin sank into the floor, relinquished from the grasp of the supernatural. His tears fell from his face as he shook, pulling himself across the floorboards. With great effort, he reached up to the door handle, afraid of what he would see if he opened the door.</p><p>But he <em> had </em> to.</p><p>“Chan,” he whispered, tears slipping into the cracks of his lips as he spoke.</p><p>He turned the door handle.</p><p>He was prepared to see blood.</p><p>He was expecting to see Chan, sprawled out and dead on the floor.</p><p>Instead, there was nothing but the boxes stacked up in the corner of the room, up against the window. There were cobwebs hanging from the ceiling, the dust-covered silk delicately dancing in the rays of light that streamed in from the window.</p><p>“Changbin,” a familiar voice came from behind him, “dude, get off the floor. This place is haunted, let’s get out of here. Didn’t you hear the realtor? It’s not worth it, even if it’s this cheap.”</p><p>There was something about the boxes, though. There was a man that sat atop them, encased in a halo of light, his feet dangling as he softly grinned. He was ethereal, somewhat translucent. </p><p>“Hello, Changbin,” he taunted, reaching a hand out towards him. <span>“My name is Chan. Remember me? Remember how much you love me? Come set me free.”</span></p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>i don't know where this came from.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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